The Other Master
by Constant Babble
Summary: The Doctor crashes back into Angel's life. He's brought friends and an old enemy.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hello! This is the fourth story of the _Blood and Time_ series, but you do _not_ need to read the others to understand this one (unless you really care about understanding the fish-vampire-moon jokes, in which case you should read _The Moon Thesis_ ). Just know that this is the first time Angel has met 11, though Angel has met both 9 and 10 before. Angel has been on the TARDIS before, but only the console room, and with 9/10's interior decorating.

For the Doctor, this is sometime between _The Big Bang_ and _The Doctor's Wife_. For Angel, it's sometime during the Baby!Connor era, but where exactly doesn't matter.

Thanks for reading!

 **Chapter One**

It was an unfortunate time of night.

It was those wee hours before dawn when Angel was just starting to get tired and Connor was just starting to get hungry. The rest of the hotel was silent, with Lorne and Fred blissfully asleep and unaware of each of the tiny noises that Angel seemed to pick up all the time now. He wondered if the hotel had always been so creaky and if he could convince Cordelia to let part of their next paycheck go to finding a plumber that could make the pipes stop wailing. Connor did that enough.

He was testing the heated formula on his wrist when it happened.

Not a creak, and certainly not the plumbing, but a deep _vwoooshCRASH_ followed by the raining clatter of debris on the floor above him. Connor startled and screamed. Angel lifted him from his crib, tucking Connor safely into the crook of his arm, listening for more signs of aggression.

Connor's screams were making listening to anything difficult. "Hush," Angel told him, putting the bottle in his mouth to try and calm him, "it'll be alright… Daddy just needs to go murder the intruders upstairs…"

Connor found the nipple of the bottle and immediately settled. God, he loved this kid.

Lorne pushed through the door, wrapped in a blue silk robe. "Angel? I think there might be a rat situation upstairs."

"Yeah. Shh," Angel told him, pushing Connor into Lorne's arms.

Another clatter sounded upstairs followed by the trample of footsteps.

"Out! Out! Out!" a voice said.

"Watch him," Angel hissed to Lorne, who nodded as Angel ran out of his room and up the staircase.

The intruders were very easy to find. A cloud of dust billowed from a doorway halfway down the dark hall, followed by more shouting.

"What _was_ that?" a panicked man's voice shouted.

"It was…unexpected," another man replied.

"You _think?_ "

"Yes, calm down! Keep yourselves together, Ponds. It's just a slight…infestation."

There was a pause and more scuffling feet followed by a dread-filled, "Doctor, where's Amy?"

Doctor? Angel ducked his head around the corner of the doorframe, already rolling his eyes before they caught sight of the telltale glowing white lettering on the TARDIS.

The ship had landed badly by the looks of it: an old bed had been shattered when it appeared and it rested at an angle in the debris, smoke pouring from the open doors. In the middle of the smoke cloud, two men were spinning frantically, looking for the missing "Amy."

So the Doctor had changed his face again, Angel concluded, stepping just inside the room. The guy must die more often than Angel did. A few moment's observation revealed the taller man with the pointy chin to be the Doctor. The other man with the prominent nose was revealed to be "Rory" in the shouting.

A few more rounds of twisting in place and the Doctor seemed to spot Angel through the smoke and dust. He stopped turning, leaning his now broader shoulders forward. "Shhh," he said, holding up a hand to Rory, "there's someone here." He took a step forward, catching the rest of his body up with his shoulders. His arms swung forward into a clap. "Hellooo!" he called happily before settling into a more embarrassed, "Sorry about the mess. Had a bit of a crash landing, I'm afraid."

Angel was about to make a snarky comment about the " _bit_ of a crash landing," but then he realized that the room wasn't all that much more destroyed than it had been. So instead he asked, "What happened?"

"And he's _friendly_!" the Doctor turned to tell Rory before he moved forward again. Now they were close enough that Angel could make out the finer details of his features in the smoke: A broad forehead half-covered by a ridiculous flop of hair, wide eyes that glinted even in the dark, and a smile that overtook all of his features as he recognized Angel. "Well, not friendly!" the Doctor exclaimed, "but _friend_ ,nonetheless!"

Before Angel could grunt in reply, the Doctor wrapped both arms around his shoulders and dragged Angel into a hug. "Hello!" he repeated, slapping Angel's back and pushing him away again before Angel had time to comprehend what had happened.

"Hello," Angel replied in a bit of a daze. "Uh…" But he had nothing to follow up with. It seemed that this version of the Doctor was no less chatty than the others, but a little more physically affectionate. Great.

Angel wondered which order these versions came in. Clearly, the Doctor knew him, so it was after the one that wore a leather jacket, but was it before or after the one that had taken them to the moon? _Damn time travelers._ Angel's life was complicated enough.

"Doctor?" Rory asked, stepping up next to them. "Where are we? Where is Amy? Who's this guy?" He held up a placating hand to Angel, "No offense."

Angel shrugged. He was wondering the same thing about Rory.

"Introductions! Right." The Doctor rested a hand on each Angel's and Rory's shoulders, tugging them a bit closer against both of their wills. "Rory, this is Angel. Angel, this is the Great Rorificus Pond."

"Rory Williams," Rory corrected, like a mother following behind a child to clean up the mess left behind. And, like a large, mess-making child, the Doctor didn't seem to notice.

"Pleasure," Angel said, though there wasn't really much that was pleasant about any of the introduction so far.

Rory half smiled and nodded back. At least they seemed in agreement on the introductions.

The Doctor let go of their shoulders and clapped his hands. "It so happens," he said to Angel, stepping through the space between Angel and Rory and waving for them to follow as he walked back into the settling cloud, "that you are just the man we need. I'm having vampire difficulties. And I'm missing a friend. We really do need to find Amy."

"Vampire?" Rory asked, "like the fish vampires in Venice?"

"No, don't be silly. He didn't look a bit like a fish!" the Doctor made a face at Rory to indicate how ridiculous this question was.

"Wait, fish? Like the fish on the moon?" Angel found himself asking.

"There are fish on the moon?"

"No! No! No!" the Doctor yelled. "Vampire. Big, leather-wearing, bloody-mouthed vampire!"

Angel shifted uncomfortably. "Doctor…" he said quietly, trying to ignore Rory. He shuffled a bit closer to this tweed-clad, bowtie-wearing, floppy-haired version of the Doctor. "You know I don't...do that. Anymore…right? The blood-drinking thing?"

"Wait," Rory objected behind them, " _he's_ a vampire?"

"Well he's not a fish," the Doctor grumbled. "But he's _nice._ " The Doctor looked Angel up and down and corrected, "Well, not _nice_ per se...he hits me an awful lot and with little provocation..."

Angel sure didn't think so. The provocation part, anyway. The punching part was entirely true.

"-but no, Angel, not you either. There's a legitimately nasty vampire on my ship who doesn't seem to have any, uh, dietary restrictions shall we say?" He pointed at the crooked TARDIS.

Angel followed the Doctor's finger and grimaced to himself. The ship looked particularly sinister, leaning to one side, door hanging open to a dark interior like a gaping mouth. The light glowing on the top seemed dimmer than he remembered it from previous encounters. The shadows around it lengthened and the blue appeared almost black. He listened for a shriek of the missing and supposedly threatened "Amy." All he heard was the low humming that the TARDIS made.

"How'd it get on the ship?" Angel asked. "Doesn't it need an invitation?" He suddenly glared at the Doctor. "I thought I warned you about vampires."

At least the Doctor managed to look embarrassed. He scuffed his boots on the floor, muttering something about there being a "slight misunderstanding."

"You _let_ it in?" Rory demanded.

"I thought he was..." the Doctor hunched his shoulders again and mumbled some more.

Rory and Angel raised an eyebrow each.

"Look," the Doctor shouted to press through the building accusations. "I _might_ have a subroutine on the TARDIS to look out for on-planet mention of a particular individual called, 'the Master' who would be very good to pick up and stop him from poking about on Earth any more than he already has _if_ he happens to appear again. I got a hit. I picked him up… I found out that Master is a fairly common name for...uh..."

"Psychopaths?" Angel suggested.

"Uh, yeah, that."

Angel gave a short nod and an even shorter sigh. "So you kidnapped my grandsire," he said, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose, trying to prevent what might be an inevitable headache.

"Oh, god," Rory said in exasperation.

"Oh," the Doctor said, wincing. He held out a hand indicating height. "This tall? Really pale? Kind of bloodstained around the mouth?"

"Annoying? Thinks he's Satan's gift to vampirekind?" Angel added. "Yeah. That's him."

"We didn't really chat," the Doctor said, "but he rudely tore out a good bit of wiring under the console." He inched a little closer to Angel, his right hand fingers rubbing at his cheek, "Is this going to be awkward...what with family and all…?"

"Nah," Angel shook his head. "I hate the bastard, and the feeling's mutual. But I'm not looking to have a family reunion any time soon." Angel paused to listen for Conner a floor below, but he was still quiet.

Angel took a step toward the TARDIS door, thinking. It was going to be tricky: it wasn't like he could kill the Master. Buffy needed to do that. But the Master wasn't exactly easy to just hold in one place while they returned him to wherever he needed to go. Angel had always thought of himself as stronger, more cunning, and all around more evil than the Master, but he couldn't deny that there were powers the Master had that Angel didn't. He wondered idly how much older he'd have to get before the powers of mental influence started to kick in. Finally, Angel asked,

"Where did you get him from?"

The Doctor smiled again, bouncing towards the TARDIS doors. "Let's have a look, shall we? The TARDIS has had enough time to clear out the air and start the reboot." He paused the the gaping TARDIS doorway and leaned his head in. "Helloooo!" he called. "Mr. Other Master Guy? Amy? Amy if you can hear me, go to the console room!" With that, he casually marched into the TARDIS and up a flight of stairs, disappearing into the darkness.

Rory caught Angel's eyes for a second before he jerked his head at the doorway. "Amy will kill me if we let him get eaten..."

Angel considered Rory for a moment. "And if she gets eaten?" he asked.

"I'll kill him." Rory faltered a moment after saying this. He tipped his shoulders into his walk after the Doctor. "I'd try, anyway. 'm not overconfident about my chances."

Well that was an interesting dynamic. Rory seemed to have a half affectionate toleration for the Doctor and half carefully controlled fear. Angel watched Rory walk away for a moment, noticing the way that he cringed almost invisibly as he entered the TARDIS.

Angel followed Rory in and shut the door behind him. Filing away that observation for later, Angel turned to the Doctor and told him in a tone very close to Demanding to lock the door as he ascended the steps to the console. And then Angel _realized_ that he was ascending steps. He stopped and looked around in confusion, squinting in the darkness. The interior structure had changed. That was...disconcerting. Angel suddenly wondered if this was a different Time Lord Doctor that somehow knew about him. Or maybe…

"Can we talk about how your face keeps changing?" He stopped next to the Doctor, whose-yet again-different face was lit by the only working screen.

"Oh, right!" The Doctor stood up and twisted around like Angel had asked him to demonstrate his outfit. "What do you think?"

"Confusing."

The Doctor grinned. "Well, we just need to see each other more often. I haven't seen you since that trip to the moon. That was _ages_ ago. Rory, remind me to tell you the story, it was brilliant."

"Right," Rory said, nodding the Doctor back toward the screen.

The Doctor spun back to the screen. "I'm pulling up the tracking logs for where I received the signal," the Doctor said, tapping on the screen to indicate several shifting circular symbols. "We've crashed a few years from where I picked him up. Once I get this up and running we'll need to backtrack to..." he ran his finger across the screen and tapped on one of the smaller circles. "1937. If we want to plunk him back where he came from." The Doctor squinted at the screen. "Looking at these connections, it looks like that might be ideal temporally."

"What do you mean?" Rory asked, coming up on the Doctor's other side.

"I mean it might be a little messy for the timeline if we don't put him back where I got him." The Doctor typed a few commands into the computer and the circles shifted and grew in size and complexity.

"How messy?" Rory asked. "Are we talking the Sunday comics don't come out that week, or we blow a hole in the universe?"

"I'd like to think somewhere between those two extremes," the Doctor said, dropping to his knees and climbing under the console.

Rory let out the same short sigh that Angel often used when trying to communicate with the Doctor, and he caught Angel's eye. "He'd _like_ to think," Rory repeated. Yes, Angel had caught that, too. Placing a hand on the console for balance as he bent down to continue the conversation with the Doctor, Rory said hopefully, "Can't you just...beam him down?"

"Do you think he'd agree to stand _really_ still over there while I did three hours of repairs?"

"Right." Rory stood up again, swinging his arms and eyeing the darkness around them.

"I'll go get him," Angel said with an edge of resignation. "Bring him back here. Shove him out the door into 1937." That sounded like a plan. "But in the meantime," he pointed at the door, "that's locked, right?" He hadn't seen the Doctor press anything in response to his demand to lock the door.

"Rory!"

"Oh, right." Rory jumped and scanned his eyes over the console. "I know this one..." he said slowly, running his fingers over a series of toggles until he found a hopeful row. He counted three in from the left and switched it. Angel heard a small _click_ come from the front door.

"So," Rory said, swinging his arms, "are you really excited to keep _us_ locked in here or _him_ locked in here?"

"Him," Angel replied, eying the various staircases and deciding which one to choose first. "My son is out there."

There was a _clunk_ from under the console. The Doctor reappeared, gripping the top of his head. "Your what?" The sonic screwdriver made its screeching appearance.

"Congratulations," Rory mumbled, looking between the Doctor and Angel.

Angel looked down at the Doctor's wide-eyed expression. "My son," he repeated. It gave Angel an odd, proud, swooping, terrified thrill every time he said it. He loved that feeling. Hated it a little bit, too, but mostly loved it.

The Doctor eyed the sonic screwdriver skeptically, shrugged, and dropped it onto the console.

"Brace for hugging," Rory suggested softly.

Angel barely had time to register the suggestion before the Doctor grabbed him around his chest.

"Maybe a few seconds earlier next time?" Angel suggested to Rory, but he only shrugged back. That was probably the earliest warning available. Angel reached up with one of his pinned arms and awkwardly patted the Doctor's tweed-covered back.

"Well done!" the Doctor said, letting Angel go again. "We'll have to meet him, won't we?"

Rory shrugged, "Doctor, _Amy_."

" _With Amy_ , of course," the Doctor said. "Find Amy, visit Angel's family."

"Get rid of the vampire?" Rory glanced apologetically at Angel. "The _other_ vampire."

"That, too!" The Doctor slapped his hand on a large yellow button and the whole room lit up, making all of them wince at the sudden brightness. "Emergency lights! Now we're cookin'!" He beamed around at Rory and Angel, waiting for a reaction that never came. His smile flickered out, leaving a frown behind. "I'm never saying that again."

Angel thought this was a wise decision.

Slightly distracted by the sudden impression of drowning in a rainbow of colors (Angel thought he preferred the other TARDIS more so far), as the Doctor dived back under the console to tend to yet more repairs, Angel took the moment to look around more thoroughly at the new layout of the TARDIS.

It was brighter. He would have been inclined to say _cleaner_ , too, if it didn't look more jumbled than ever before. It had the aura of a place that had had all of its shelves emptied and dusted, but no one had taken the time to replace the items on the shelf. The brass, and there was a lot of it now, all gleamed in the light, but the controls on the console had lost any resemblance to anything sensible or familiar. They had been replaced with absurdly bright and colorful switches, levers much larger than was probably necessary, balls spiked and sunk halfway into the console, and bright, unlabeled blinking lights.

Two sets of stairs curved up and away from the glass platform that they stood on, disappearing into right and left options for walking deeper into the ship. It occurred suddenly to Angel that there _was_ a deeper into the ship. While he had certainly never thought the Doctor did everything solely in this one room, Angel had also never really thought about what the rest of the ship might contain. The addition of hallways onto the already-too-big-for-its-container ship was more than Angel's mind could wrap around.

So Angel stuck with what he knew. He prowled around the console, sniffing for the Master amongst the jumble of alien scents. He picked up the Doctor first: a cool, organic scent that had a lingering hint of something sharp, like gunpowder. His two human friends were also easy to pick out, and he took note of the hint of redheaded female and stored it in his memory in case he needed to catch her trail later.

Rory, (whose scent was of a brown-haired male, with predominant layers of grass and soap) stepped around the room after Angel. Since Angel was just circling the console, it was more than a little weird. He spun on his heel so fast, Rory nearly ran into him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing!" Rory said, holding up his hands and taking a step back on pure instinct. He regained his composure enough to nod at one of the stairways. "I just..." he shrugged, "are we going to look for Amy?"

Angel glanced at the Doctor. "I think I could track her," he said.

"You're just a barrel of useful monkeys today," the Doctor yelled out from under the console. "Wasn't I _just_ saying that I knew all sorts of useful people, Rory?"

"Last month," Rory said impatiently. "Listen, Doctor, how about you do..." he held out a hand at the console, trying to think of a word for what the Doctor was doing, "...whatever you're doing. Angel and I can find Amy."

The Doctor ducked back out to look at Angel and Rory, suddenly deeply concerned. "Alright," he agreed, "but stick together! The security system is still on the fritz, but I'll try to get something operational. I'll catch up."

Angel nodded and led the way to the staircase where the redhead's trail was strongest. Just before disappearing down the hall, he turned.

"Doctor."

The Doctor looked up.

"The Master's annoying. And an idiot. And _really_ melodramatic. But if you run into him...don't underestimate him."

The Doctor's smile at that was the first truly familiar thing that Angel had seen on this new Doctor. It had a different shape, but the undertone of crazy held steady from the Doctor that Angel had met in that field. "Wouldn't dream of it," he said happily.

* * *

The Master had clearly underestimated the magician's power. One moment he had been in the stinging air of a church surrounded by his followers, the bleeding bodies of the ritual sacrifices, and the smoky smell of a hundred candles, and the next he had been surrounded by brassy and organic smells with cold moving glass and rippling lights of some magical origin. Before him, looking just as surprised as the Master had felt, had stood his captor.

Just as surprised, but far more unarmed. The Master had taken this for an unfortunate accident by an unlucky magician. An accident that he wanted to make sure was far more unfortunate for the magician than for the Master himself.

He would have ripped the scrawny man's throat out that instant if he hadn't wanted information on where exactly he'd been relocated. He was on a schedule, after all.

He had reached out his mind to subdue the insolent magician, and in doing so noticed the surging power source directly next to both of them. It was disguised as a mutated mushroom covered in buttons, but there was no mistaking that from it, the magician channeled his power.

The Master had assumed that this contraption was what young magicians took for impressive these days. When he ruled the world, they would be the first to go. Followed by anyone who thought the printing press was a good idea. Also things that breathed.

But maybe, just maybe, he should have thought twice about punching his fist into the switch-covered metal of the power source and ripping out a chunk of metal entrails. The magician had apparently been upset and a tad more competent than the Master had originally thought. The whole world had tipped, sending him tumbling into this accursed labyrinth.

The Master prowled down yet another long, green hallway, snarling at the doors as he passed them. Occasionally he would wrench one open to reveal a tea room, a garden, a room so colorful it assaulted his eyes, a room of fish that darted cheerfully about in a dark fog (the Master had plucked one from the air and crushed it), a billiard room, a cave, and a reading room filled with books only about dog training.

"Come forth horrid little magician!" the Master challenged. "And I will make your death easy."

The magician did not come out. He lurked, playing this little game of sending fantasies that even the Master with his powerful mind could not distinguish from reality.

He pulled open a door and spat in disgust into the closet containing nothing but wooden buckets. "I will pluck out your eyes," the Master cooed soothingly. "I will gnaw on your bones. I will peel the skin from your muscles and live on your blood for a decade while you beg for death."

The corridor suddenly took a turn for the fuscia.

The Master snarled, suspecting that he was being mocked by someone. He nearly turned back, but a sweet smell caressed his senses. A human female... _Well_ , he reasoned, _no sense going hunting on an empty stomach_.

The Master's ill mood improving by the slightest degree, he stalked along the hallway, following after the scent of his next meal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Doctor?" Amy Pond called uncertainly. Her voice sounded eerily muffled among the maze of books as she tiptoed through the rows of shelves that towered more than twice her height.

"Rory?"

She ran her fingers along the spines of books next to her; the entire section seemed to be nothing but dictionaries from the 1920s. Emergency lighting glowed red from above, creating long, dark shadows. At the end of the room she found a door. Thank god, she was about to die from dictionary overexposure.

Actually, two doors. And a third one down in a dark corner of the room.

Amy sighed. "Wouldn't kill him to put up a few signs, would it? Library, left. Frisbee factory, right. Console room, straight. Husband: two corridors to the left and down the stairs until you smack into him…"

Amy opened the first door. Behind it stretched a seemingly endless hall. One of the endless halls with those circle things on the walls.

"My favorite," Amy said, stepping in and pulling the door closed behind her. She wasn't entirely sure what unnerved her so much, but between the emergency lighting, the utter silence of the ship, and the fact that she had been wandering around for a solid ten minutes and not gotten _anywhere_ all amounted to very, very bad in her well-tuned internal Something Bad's Happening-o-meter.

"Rory?" she called a little louder. Not that she expected more of a response the dozenth time, but it was _something_.

The circle-y walls pulled in the sound of her voice as if she were in a small closet instead of an empty hallway. Amy straightened her shoulders nervously. That was new.

New was bad. Right? New seemed bad.

Amy almost reflexively turned to look at the Doctor to demand answers and solutions, but she stopped herself. _That_ would have been completely pathetic, she told herself. _You're on the_ _TARDIS_ _, for godsake, Amy. Nothing can even get_ _in_ _here. Pull yourself together_.

"I am together," she said out loud to muffling walls. "I'm so together, you can just call me… Mrs. Together...Lady. Person." She made a noise of frustration and shook herself, a little glad that no one was around for that.

But she had made a good point: the TARDIS was pretty much an impenetrable fortress. Nothing could get in unless the Doctor let it in. And even if something did get in, "No way in bloody hell could they find where they're going in _this_ maze," she muttered out loud.

"Oh," a sympathetic voice said behind her, and Amy whirled around in shock. A dark figure stood silhouetted at the corner of the hall she'd just turned from, maybe ten meters away. She could see his outline perfectly, the red emergency lighting cutting the shape of his tall form, long ( _clawed_ ) fingers twitching at his sides, and stance that said, _I'm ready to run. Are you?_

Amy bit back a terrified curse.

"Are you lost, little girl?" he simpered (it was definitely a he, though his voice was high for a man's and had a raspy quality that didn't sound quite human). Okay, alien. She could deal with aliens. She _lived_ with an alien, so she ought to have the practice by now.

Amy found her own voice and schooled it into something that she hoped sounded stern and commanding. "Who are you?"

The head of the figured tilted ever so slightly to the left. She could hear the grin in his reply, "Your worst nightmare."

A chill ran up Amy's spine at about the same rate as the retort to her tongue. "Oh, great." She rolled her eyes. "So you're a cliche-throwing alien, then. God help me, _this_ one's actually going to kill me."

So: Alien That Wanted to Kill Her. Not quite as easy as dealing with the alien she lived with (although the Doctor seemed to think that playing with her patience was a terrific game), but it wasn't like this was a new situation, either. The key, she'd found, was to stall. Put of the Killing Amy part as long as possible, and the Doctor would eventually turn up and set things right. Usually at the last second, but when was the Time Lord _ever_ on time?

The figure took a step forward to the edge of one of the emergency lights. The light and shadows fell sharply on his face, elongating talon-sharp, already too-long teeth and deepening the ridges on his forehead. His eye sockets were in deep shadow, but the light caught something in his eyes that made them glow orange. Amy's breath caught in her throat.

 _You've seen worse,_ she told herself. Much worse. She tried to remember what those worse things were, just to give herself perspective, but in the face of this one, she was drawing a terrific blank.

 _Where_ was the Doctor? _Something_ evil was on his ship. _Something_ evil had gotten in, and neither the Doctor nor Rory were anywhere to be found. Amy forgot to breathe for several moments. It could only mean one thing, couldn't it? If the Doctor couldn't stop this thing from getting in...

"This one is smart," the thing said. "But she has a sharp tongue. It will be a pleasure to eat from her still-screaming mouth."

Amy's breathing quickened and she tried to hide the tremble that shook her body. " _DOCTOR!_ " she screamed. " _RORY!_ "

The creature took another predatory step forward. "By all means, keep calling for your friends. They aren't faster than I am." He took another step. Amy swallowed dryly. "Want to see if _you_ are?"

Amy didn't need to be given a second opportunity. She ran.

* * *

Rory chased after Angel at a bit of a run. After only a few sniffs and several weirdly quick steps down a seemingly random hallway, the vampire was almost too far ahead for Rory to catch up. Rory was used to being several steps behind Amy and the Doctor, but not quite this literally.

"Er-" Rory hesitated saying Angel's name. It was such a strange name for a vampire-let alone a white American male vampire-that Rory still wasn't sure he'd heard it correctly, and wouldn't that be an embarrassing (if typical) mistake? He sucked in a quick breath of courage. "Angel?" Rory ventured. "I can't-"

Angel slowed, glancing briefly at Rory with something that looked like embarrassment himself. "Sorry," he said. "Sometimes I forget…"

"Right, yeah, no problem," Rory shook it off, finally drawing level with Angel. Angel started moving again right away, but seemed to be letting Rory set the pace, which he did at the level of Cautiously Quick. "Er, the TARDIS has this bit that lets it track where passengers are," he said. "If the Doctor gets it going, maybe he could find Amy without us...having to find Amy."

Angel nodded once. "We should be more worried about the Master," he said. "I assume Amy isn't a soulless meglomaniac."

"She is Scottish," Rory said. "And ginger."

Angel half-smiled in concession, which Rory counted as a full win in his Jokes-That-Worked tally.

"I always kind of liked redheads," Angel said. That was the first time that Rory noticed just how smooth and low Angel's voice was. He glanced sideways at the vampire. Yup, and how handsome he was.

"And she's my wife," Rory added, swallowing the self-conscious tone as much as possible. He opened a door as they came to it, flicked the light on inside, looked around at the empty tennis court, flicked the light off again, and shut the door.

"Got it," Angel said. Rory moved on, but Angel suddenly stopped, looking interestedly at the door to the tennis courts. He opened the door, flicked on the lights, and after a moment of consideration, said, "Come on."

"They're not in there," Rory protested, following anyway.

"There's a door on the other side," Angel said, as if this answered all possible questions as to where they were going. "I should probably warn you," Angel said as they crossed the tennis court, "the Master has hypnotic powers. Don't look into his eyes."

Rory opened his mouth and closed it again. He nodded a few times and continued forward. "Does not looking into his eyes actually help with that?" he asked. Hopefully, Angel would have helpful advice; as opposed to the Doctor's advice, which often included instructions for things he should do with his organs. Organs that he didn't even have.

"Yes," Angel replied.

They had reached the other side of the room and he pulled it open. There was an aquarium tunnel on the other side. Rory couldn't see how far it went because it curved away, but he also couldn't see the far walls of the tank through the water, so he thought it must be quite long. Angel hesitated visibly before stepping into it with a pace that was faster than a walk but slower than a jog.

"Eye contact is how vampires contact your mind to manipulate it," he added.

"Good," Rory said, glancing to the left at a manta ray that was following their quick progress. "Maybe the Doctor will get the TARDIS going properly and he'll...disappear." He shivered. "I'm never going to sleep well at night."

Angel grunted. "He can't just disappear. He has to go back. Important things need to happen."

"Like what?"

Angel shrugged the question off. "A cheerleader needs to kill him. Twice. It's a long story."

But an interesting one, it sounded like. Long stories weren't so bad if they were interesting, but Rory recognized the code for, I Actually Just Don't Want to Tell You This Story, so he didn't press it. Something that looked like a cross between a cuttlefish and a seahorse passed over them.

"So you've been here a long time?" Angel asked.

"Yes, and sorry, I don't think it gets more specific than that." Rory's expression turned joking again. "I mean, it hasn't been years, but it's been a while. Amy loves it. Travel, culture, meeting a wide variety of intimidating people."

"And you?"

"I love Amy," he said. "Which sounds boring in this context."

"You're here because of her," Angel said. "Not because you like it, too."

"It's not like it's _always_ sorting out vampire infestations," Rory said. "We've been to some lovely places." He quite liked the red beaches of New Venus, for instance. Until he found out exactly why they were red.

Angel made a grunting sound in the back of his throat. "And Martha Jones? Is she around?"

The question was phrased casually enough, but there was a hint of interest that went a bit farther beyond casual. Rory eyed Angel curiously, but answered, "Martha Jones? No, I think she just traveled with the last Doctor. From what it sounds like-it's hard to ever tell for sure, you know? Why?"

Angel shrugged one shoulder. "Just trying to keep things straight in my head. Time traveling gives me a headache."

Rory let out a laugh. "So you're one of the Doctor's past kidnappings, too?"

"No," Angel replied. "Just a… We've run into each other here and there. I'm not really the being-kidnapped type."

"I didn't think I was either…" Rory replied quietly. "Who'd want to kidnap me?" he added in a too-loud joking voice.

The joke fell very flat.

They hurried on. The aquarium stretched on, much like the silence.

Rory looked up at Angel, taking in his furrowed brow of concentration and darting eyes, focusing on things in the dim light that Rory's couldn't. It suddenly hit Rory that he was wandering the ship with a vampire and thought it might behoove him to figure out exactly why he was. After all, the vampires he'd met in Venice were less than helpful.

"So..." he said, a slight quaver to his voice.

"I'm not going to eat you," Angel replied before Rory could even get the question out. "It's a thing with a curse and a soul."

"Oh, right," Rory nodded casually, now beginning to doubt the whole needing-eye-contact-to-mind-read thing. "Good to know."

* * *

The Doctor banged his head on the lip of the console as he climbed out to check the monitor. He slapped his hand over the pain in his forehead, wondering if he stopped banging his head if he would remember the special logistics of the TARDIS he'd been traveling in most of his life.

Given the likelihood of him going without a head injury for any sufficiently large quantity of time, he doubted that he'd ever know.

"Ow ow ow..." he sang to himself, squinting at the readouts on the screen. "Yeah, you too, huh? That's the last time we do that, I promise. Vampires just are not good house guests."

The damage readouts were extensive, extreme, and exhaustive-he was exhausted just looking at them. Grumbling about vampires in general, the Doctor pushed the screen away and ran a finger along the thin crack running up the central column. He could feel the stinging heat of leaking time energy, but it wasn't growing, and would probably heal within a few hours.

"How would he even know to go after the psychic circuitry like this?" the Doctor complained. "Unless- Dracula had some hypnotic powers, didn't he, Old Girl? Great book! You'd love it! Assuming the same rules, he might have been picking up on the psychic energy, which meant he ripped wires out of all the important stuff."

He ducked under the console and went to work stripping the loose ends of the yellow lighting wires. "Which reminds me, I need to stop by the library." He reached for the other end of the yellow wire.

"So, in order of priority," he said, "you need your security system working, navigation so we can take him home, my psychic connection to you would be nice as I'd like to be able to navigate myself, and, new first priority! If we get the comms up, we can try to talk to Amy."

The Doctor dropped the yellow wire and reached for the dangling red wires instead. "Good plan," he said. "I love our discussions."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Annnnd the lights are out," Rory said, fidgeting nervously. Angel heard his heart speed up past the zone of nervousness and into fear, but his voice remained steady.

Red emergency lighting flicked on along the hallways, making them suddenly appear smaller and more sinister.

"I can see alright," Angel said in a tone that stated fact rather than offer reassurance or support.

"Yeah. Uh...good." Rory squinted into the darker corners. "Maybe it's a reboot? Solution to everything, you know. Turn it off. Turn it on again."

"I wouldn't know," Angel replied. "I don't exactly get along well with technology…"

Rory started walking down the hall again, trying the first door he came to, only to find it locked. "Well," he said, eyeing the locked door suspiciously, "that's the first thing you do. Turn it off...turn it on. Hope it gets better."

Angel grunted in the back of his throat. "I'll have to try that," he muttered, mostly because he was supposed to. Then, in the darkness of the hallways, a light nearly blinded them. Angel ducked instinctively because the sheer magnitude of the brightness reminded him of the sun, but a few seconds later he realized that there was a definite (and relieving) lack of him burning up.

"What the-?" Rory said, shielding his eyes against the light. "Okay, now I _really_ can't see anything."

Angel straightened up cautiously, his arm over his eyes and relying more heavily on his other senses than before to gauge their surroundings. The Master was still somewhere farther ahead, by the scent and by that instinctive pull that connects bloodlines. It wasn't quite as strong with the Master as it was with Darla or Drusilla, but it was strong enough.

"Come on," Angel told Rory, moving forward again and hoping that they would move out of the beam of light soon.

They pressed on, feeling their way along the wall and fumbling at door handles, which were all locked now.

"Amy!" Rory called out. Silence answered and Angel sensed through his tightly shut eyes that the hue of the light shifted to blue-white instead of pure white.

"What the hell is this ship doing?" Angel asked. "I thought rebooting was supposed to fix it." Angel suddenly smacked face first, rather painfully, into the wall at a corner he hadn't known was coming and swore again.

There was a squeal and static of a radio, suddenly cut off by a _click_ , and the Doctor's voice echoed around them. "Heeeeeeelllloooooo, TARDIS!"

"Doctor?" Rory asked.

"Yes, hello, Rory! Guess who got the intercom working?"

"What the _hell_ is with the lights?" Angel demanded. Even as he said it, though, the light was beginning to fade. Angel cautiously squinted his eyelids open. Still painful, but he could make out a few door-like shadows. He closed his eyes again.

"And hello to you, too, Angel! How about Amy? Ponds? Sound off!"

"Here," said Rory automatically. If Angel could have rolled his eyes, he would have. As it was, he stopped and turned on his heel toward Rory, who must have picked up on the movement because he shuffled his feet in response.

An empty static filled the hallway for a moment, the Doctor's voice clearly absent from the air. The lights abruptly normalized, and Angel blinked several times, looking around with half-squinted eyes. His trust in the lighting systems on this ship was severely suffering.

Several moments later the intercom crackled back to life. "Okay, Amy, Amy! Tell me where you are. Yes! I know about the monster."

Angel straightened a bit, tensing. He wasn't sure how the whole intercom thing worked, but if the Master had already found Amy… He turned to Rory. "We've got to go," he said urgently, and broke into a jog, picking up the Master's scent again.

"Doctor?" Angel asked. "If the Master's with her, tell her to keep him talking." Then he added as an afterthought to himself, "He _loves_ talking…"

"Yes, Amy," the Doctor's voice continued. "Have you tried engaging in negotiations? Go on. I'm sure he'll see reason. That's a girl! Be right there." There was a _click_ and his voice continued, "Rory, Angel, where are you?"

Rory opened up a door. "There's a giant, yellow slide," he reported breathlessly.

"Great, Angel, go down. You'll want...three doors up on the right."

Angel grimaced internally. He was all for reaching the Master soon, but did it have to be down a slide that looked like it came straight out of a McDonald's playroom?

Rory, for his part, didn't hesitate before he jumped feet first into the plastic tube. He disappeared almost instantly. Sighing, Angel climbed in after him and launched himself down.

A claustrophobic and surprisingly violent ride of twists and turns later, Angel shot out of the bottom and nearly landed on top of Rory, who was struggling through-

"What the hell?" Angel said, swatting colorful plastic balls away from him like so many mosquitoes in a swamp-and just as pointless.

"We've gotten to the part of the adventure where the Doctor shows his little kid side," Rory explained.

"Great," Angel muttered, pushing his way through the sea of plastic balls. "So we get to play in the little kid zone and your wife is the Happy Meal. If I were you, I'd rethink my choice in friends."

"Oh, you get used to it," Rory said tiredly, and not at all like he was used to it. "Besides, I chose Amy. She chooses our friends."

"Ah," Angel nodded. So it was like that. He wasn't really surprised, but he couldn't really say so. "Did he say three doors up on the right?"

"Yeah," Rory panted beside him. He flicked aside a child's sock with a quick motion and a look that one might give a millipede. It seemed like the kind of prop added for authenticity, but there was a part of Angel found the fact that it was even there deeply creepy.

Rory continued, "Not really sure what he...ohhhh."

Rory stopped wading through the ball pit and Angel stopped to look back at him. Rory had finally seen what Angel had been leading them toward: two columns of doors in the wall at the far end of the ball pit, leading, presumably, to each consecutive level up. There were at least ten floors, and several meters of distance between the two columns.

But the falling tone of despair in Rory's voice was due, Angel was pretty sure, to the climbing wall that was between the columns of doors as the only way up to each level. Rory's face fell further the higher his eyes tracked up the wall.

"At least it's only the third one," Angel said, turning and shoving the balls aside to reach the wall faster.

"Easy for you to say," Rory muttered. Angel wasn't sure he was supposed to hear that, so he pretended he didn't.

Angel reached the wall and edged over to the righthand column of doors. He started climbing, his fingers gripping and pulling so quickly that he practically launched himself up the wall. He wrenched the third floor door open the second he reached it and spared the briefest second to glance down, noting that Rory was still making his way towards the second floor door, but doggedly climbing nonetheless.

"Don't wait for me!" Rory shouted up at him.

Angel didn't. He swung through the third door onto a cool white stone floor. A castle's foyer spread grandly out before him, elegant marble stairs sweeping up and away to what must be hundreds of rooms, a thick red carpet inviting him forward and upward. Shining metal suits of armor stood guard in the various corners, mammoth tapestries covered the walls where there weren't life-sized oil paintings, and-Angel swore-on the wooden hall table to the left, a three-pronged golden candlestick and a small wooden clock stood with sleepy faces carved into their wax and woodwork. When he looked behind him, the door to the ball pit looked like a portal between realities.

"Doctor! I'm in a castle. Where do I go?"

"Up the stairs and then right. There's a door just after the stained glass window of Galgalon slaying the vortasaur."

Angel ran. "This is wrong," he growled to himself as took the stairs four at a time. "This. Is. So. Wrong."

He took the right and looked for the stained glass window as he dashed down the hallway. Thankfully, there was only one stained glass window, having no idea who was supposed to be depicted slaying what, and Angel dove through the door next to it. He found himself in a long grey hallway with three-foot circles marking the walls at regular intervals.

"Angel? Negotiations aren't going well..." the Doctor's voice crackled through the air.

"I'm in the hallway!" Angel shouted, already running, and counting doors in case that was important.

"Teal door! On the left!"

Angel spotted the teal door. He didn't bother to slow down or try the doorknob; he simply used his shoulder to crash through the door (which hurt more than he was used to-it being metal-but at least it worked).

Through the door ran an identical grey hallway, and Angel spotted them. A woman he assumed to be Amy, bent over and struggling against the steel grip of the Master, long red hair hiding her face. The Master paused, his lips parted and his teeth bared over her neck, looking pleased at the entrance of an audience.

Then the Master suddenly frowned, confused. "Angelus?"

Angel snarled. It was a typical greeting between them, and conveniently not an answer to the question.

"Rory?" Amy asked, trying to see what was going on through her hair.

"Let her go," Angel growled.

"Angelus, you really do have the most amusing ideas." The Master gave Amy a shake by the grip he had in her hair that made her stumble and yelp. "Tell me, is this labyrinth one of your little games? I never knew you practiced sorcery."

Amy let out a _ha!_ of laughter. "You are so dead as soon as the Doctor hears you called his spaceship 'sorcery.'" There was a pause as Angel and the Master continued to glare at each other and Amy added under her breath, "Or he'll find it funny. But you should definitely let me go! And _who are you?"_ she shouted at Angel, twisting to see him and trying to blow the hair out of her eyes.

"Innocent bystander," Angel said, inching slowly forward.

"Spaceship?" the Master cocked his head curiously. "Does the sorcerer cast his spells from the clouds?"

"Uh," Angel faltered, wondering how exactly to explain a spaceship to someone who might still think the Earth was the center of the universe. Particularly _this_ spaceship, which Angel still needed someone to explain to _him_. But this was good: the Master was curious, talking. He wasn't hellbent on killing the girl, it had just seemed like a good idea at the time. Angel could work with that.

"Clouds?" Amy grimaced at the pain in her scalp, but to her credit, kept going, "Are you an alien or not?"

"He's a vampire," Angel said, much more confident with this information.

"Like the fish?"

Angel sighed and the Master stared at her.

"The _fish?_ " the Master's mouth hung agape. He raised what would have been his eyebrows if he'd had any left at Angel, looking for help-or maybe just confirmation that the human had lost it.

"Yeah," grumbled Amy. "Been there. Done that. _So_ over it." She kicked the Master in the knee.

He yelled and stumbled backward, yanking Amy with him by the hair. Angel rushed forward, taking advantage of the Master being off guard, grabbing his free arm, wrenching it behind his back, and twisting it upward until the Master yelled again.

"Let her go," Angel demanded again.

"After I crush her throat," the Master growled, "and then I will teach you some humility."

"No!" dual voices shouted as two doors banged from either end of the hallway. Rory burst through the teal door that Angel had used, gasping for breath and sweating profusely after his climb, while the Doctor backed through the yellow door behind them, two bright blue buckets of water sloshing in his hands. The Master jerked and shoved Angel off of his arm, who had lost his grip when he spun around in his own shock to look at the Doctor. The Master tugged Amy away from Angel several steps, finding a safe buffer between him and the cautiously approaching Rory.

"No humility!" the Doctor shouted, spinning on the spot, water sloshing from the blue buckets. "I don't allow anything of the sort on my ship. Nasty stuff. Unacceptable."

"Doctor!" Amy yelled, gripping her hair and trying to pull free of the Master.

"Yes, Amy," the Doctor said cheerfully. "You're right. We have not quite finished our water battle. I was about to win, too!"

"You let go of her," demanded Rory, pointing a warning finger at the Master.

"My, that _does_ seem to be the popular desire of the day," the Master said with a grin. "What'll you give me in return?"

Everyone turned to look at the Doctor, whose plan might be buckets of water, but it was more of a plan than Angel had, at least.

The Doctor grinned. "A luxury trip back to the lovely space and time of your origin," he promised, walking forward with slow, causal steps. "No harm, no foul. Everything as it was. You go back to your, uh, probably evil plans, and I go back to winning my water battle." The water sloshed as the Doctor lifted one of the buckets again.

"And if I don't?" the Master's mouth twisted into a smile.

The Doctor stopped smiling. "Then you will find your visit much less pleasant. Come on, do the smart thing."

Angel, knowing the Master on a more personal level than the rest, knew that he often did _not_ do the smart thing. What was important was getting the Master to loosen his grip on Amy. He noticed that the Doctor was looking at Angel more than the Master. Angel shook his head.

The Doctor let out a small breath and set down one of the buckets. "Alright, kiddo, you have to the count of three. One."

The Master dragged Amy closer and gripped her neck, his claws digging into her pale skin. Angel caught a whiff of blood in the air. Amy let out a strangled noise somewhere between a whimper and a growl of protest.

"Two-three," the Doctor said, and sloshed the bucket of water in Amy's face. Skin sizzled and smoke rose off of the Master where the water splashed onto him. A few burning drops hit Angel, too, and he flinched in surprise. The Master dropped Amy and backed away, clawing at the burning flesh on his already hideous face. Amy hurried over to stand next to Rory, who put an arm around her despite her being drenched.

The Doctor dropped the empty bucket and plucked the second bucket from the floor. He jogged past the hissing Master to where Rory stood. Grinning, he tipped the water onto Rory's head. "Did you know that I am _very_ good friends with Pope Boniface II?" he said conversationally. "There was this whole mix up that added three days to the year. We had to rework the entire calendar to cover it up."

Rory rubbed the water out of his eyes. "What did you do?"

"Covered you in vampire acid." The Doctor grinned back at Angel. "Classic vampires. I guessed he wouldn't like holy water. You'll have to tell me how that works."

"Magic," Angel replied, backing away from the creeping puddle of water spreading on the floor. "Or maybe sorcery? Faith?" All words for the same thing, as far as Angel was concerned.

" _Sorcerer!_ " the Master shook his fist at the Doctor, his voice gurling with rage like the boiling water on his skin.

"Yes!" the Doctor shouted back, and pointed a finger in the Master's face. "Right! I am the biggest, nastiest sorcerer you will ever meet and you have just made me very angry. Now you will either make the smart decision and go home or I will do something a lot less nice than dumping acid in your face."

The Master considered the Doctor warily for a moment, sizing up what he knew with what the Doctor was insinuating.

"He's not lying," Angel spoke up.

"His heart races," the Master replied.

"He has two," Angel told him. "He's…" Angel searched for a term that would make sense. "From a race of magicians. His power is strong and he has-" Angel found that his ego didn't even like lying about it, but he swallowed his pride and said anyway, "-defeated myself on many occasions." The Doctor grinned importantly at him, which Angel returned with a glare. "Master," Angel turned back to the ancient vampire, "he will use his strong powers to take you home, where I know you have much more important matters to contend with."

"And," Amy added, "he is the scariest of the race of...magicians. He's so scary, they don't even invite him over anymore."

The Doctor grinned at Amy now, and Angel really wished that the Doctor had turned into someone who didn't look like he was an excitable child playing dress-up.

"That!" the Doctor snapped his fingers at Amy, and then turned back to the Master. "And just to make this easier on you, I've already pulled you off your own personal timeline. So, if you don't go home, it will destroy everything you have ever cared about."

"That would be himself," Angel supplied.

"It will certainly destroy yourself," the Doctor agreed. "Plus a few worlds, give or take. Really. Let's just have a nice walk back to the console room, and you can go back to your day." He pointed eagerly back at the yellow door with both hands.

The Master glanced at Angel with a cautious skepticism. Angel nodded.

The Master turned his eye back to the Doctor. "Very well," he said reluctantly. "Take me home. Mutated Magician."

"Wonderful!" The Doctor clapped his hands. He patted the Master's shoulder and waved him toward the yellow door. "Right this way, then. There's no place like home, after all."

* * *

"Yes, but _different_ from the Venice vampires," the male human said again. Apparently, there was still some confusion as to the definition of _vampire_ , and the sorcerer had not agreed to let the Master or Angelus demonstrate some of the finer points of not being anything like fish.

"It seems like once you've done vampires, you should be done with them," the female grumbled, also for what seemed like the dozenth time. She complained a tiring amount.

"But then we wouldn't get to have such _interesting_ conversations," the sorcerer said from under the console, his boots tapping together.

This was, apparently, where he had to set up to complete his spell. It was a very odd structure. There were many metal and glowing objects, none of which looked like candles. There was a looking glass that showed many strange symbols that the sorcerer appeared to read, and yet there was a book on the stand, which the Master guessed was the primary spellbook. He had glanced at it as he strode past, and though the instructions were written in English, the spells themselves were a language the Master did not understand. Apparently, the spell was to summon a deity called "Quantum Physics." The Master was unfamiliar with this deity, and he did not enjoy unfamiliarity. There were simply too many unknowns.

"So tell me, Sorcerer," the Master said authoritatively, "for what purpose was I brought here?"

"It's a little embarrassing," the sorcerer mumbled from under the console. "My...uhhhhh...spell. It mistook you for an old friend of mine."

The female folded her arms across her chest. "A friend? What friend is this that you easily mistake for an evil, bloodsucking, ugly-as-my great-aunt-Hilda creature?"

The Master snapped his teeth at the girl.

"Be nice to your aunt!" the sorcerer scolded, pulling himself back out from under the mushroom-shaped podium.

Perhaps, the Master thought, the sorcerer was keeping the humans for use in some ritual sacrifice later. The female was certainly clad scantily enough to appease a number of deities, although she did not smell like a virgin. Not all deities required virgins, of course, but it was a nice gesture that the Master always preferred to include. Of course, if they were being kept for ritual sacrifice, the Masterwould have locked them up, but this was a strange place full of strange people.

The female cocked her barely-covered hip (not even among the poorest of peasants had the Master seen a skirt made of such little material) and raised an eyebrow at the sorcerer.

"So they have the same name. Big deal."

The young male human raised his hand. "You have a friend called Master?"

The Master cocked his head at this. Someone else was using his title? The Master clenched his fist.

The sorcerer scowled at the boy. "Do I complain about your friends?"

"Actually, yes."

The sorcerer huffed. "Angel, how was _your_ day?"

Angelus was just starting to make grumbling noises when the Master announced, "I would like to meet this friend! I would make him _beg_." He lifted a hand and curled his fingers threateningly, demonstrating just how much this imposter would plead for his life in the all-powerful grip of the Master's claws. He imagined the other "Master" prostrating himself on the ground before him, powerless against the Master's unbreakable will. Then they would find out who the _true_ Master was. The corner of his mouth turned upward in an anticipatory sneer.

The sorcerer coughed, like something had gotten lodged in his throat. He started to make a sound like laughter, but then he frowned and eventually he settled on a quizzical expression, pondering the Master. Raising a finger he said, "You really shouldn't say things like that. It makes me uncomfortably curious."

Angelus shifted next to the Master in what seemed to be a similar discomfort. Perhaps he wished to return to the fold of the Order, and join in answering the sorcerer's curiosity. They could start by removing this other Master's fingernails.

"Hold on," the girl held up a hand, trying to get the facts straight. She pointed accusingly at both the sorcerer and Angelus. "You _both_ have evil friends called 'The Master,' and-"

"-Not a friend," Angelus interrupted.

At the same time, the sorcerer started mumbling about the definition of 'friend' in the context of certain situations, which might be interpreted...

"Angelus," the Master said, turning to him, "I'm _hurt_. Are we not family?"

"In blood only," Angelus crossed his arms over his chest.

"Blood is the only thing that matters," the Master said with all the reverence that the topic of blood demanded. Angelus made a motion like trying to shake an irritating fly away. The Master glared at him. Still a rebellious young stallion. The Master itched to tame him.

"Blood," the Master continued, stepping closer to Angelus, pulling himself up in the aura of authority that cowed braver vampires than the stallion, "is our God. Blood not only gives us life, but _birthrights_. Power. Magic-"

"Eww," interrupted the girl.

The Master spared the briefest irritated glance at her.

"What did we say about respecting alien cultures?" the sorcerer shouted from under the console.

"Only when they're not stupid?" she asked.

" _Dominion!_ " the Master continued, stepping yet closer to Angelus. " _That_ is the birthright passed down to you through _me_ , and-" The Master paused. Something was amiss. The air around Angelus smelled...different. It smelled...of Angelus, certainly. And oddly, of something softer. Milky, sweet, masculine, and also just of hint of something that reminded him of Darla. And there was that twist that was unmistakable; the entwined oneness of a new life.

The Master knew what he thought couldn't be possible, but still it was...

Interesting.

Angelus was nervous. He shifted away from the Master, and his nervousness confirmed several suspicions. There were prophecies, after all. The Master had educated himself extremely well on those.

The Master smiled. "Oh, _what_ have you done, Angelus?" he asked softly, his delight growing.

"How are we coming, Doctor?" Angelus asked urgently.

"Nearly there," the sorcerer answered, ducking under the podium again. "A few positioning systems need to be hooked up. Everyone, just keep cool for five minutes."

Things were falling so beautifully into place. Angelus had a child. The Master was in need of a child. "Has my boy worked himself into the prophesies? Tell me. Tell me all about my great-grandson. I should be so proud."

"I'm not your boy," Angelus said to the Master through a clenched jaw.

The Master had read the Writings of Aurelius so many times, he could recite their entirety in his sleep. He counted the figures in the room. Four, not including himself.

"Your child is not here, which means that you left him with someone else," he said, working the logic aloud. That would make five. Which happened to be the number of people who needed to die to bring forth the Anointed One.

The Master grinned to himself. Who would have thought that the stallion would be the key to the perfection of his beautiful family?

"Listen," Angelus said with a note of desperation. "You can't get out of here. You'll just have to wait to catch up to me after you go back to where you were. Remember? Exploding timeline?"

"Yes," the Master hissed. "Worlds hang in the balance."

"What's he talking about?" the boy asked. The Master could already smell his building fear.

The Master straightened himself grandly. " _And there will be a time of crisis,_ " he recited,beginning to pace around the odd podium, " _of worlds hanging in the balance. And in this time shall come the Anointed, the Master's great warrior. And the Slayer will not know him, will not stop him, and he will lead her into Hell. Five will die,_ " The Master thrust out his hand to show the five," _and from their ashes the Anointed shall rise._ " He twisted his hand around and made a theatrical rising motion." _The Brethren of Aurelius shall greet him and usher him to his immortal destiny!_ " The Master's arms flew out to expound the magnificence of the unfolding world at their doorstep.

The sorcerer clamored out from under the console again. "What?"

"What?" said the girl.

"He's going to kill us now, isn't he?" said the boy.

"Dammit," said Angelus.

"Hey!" the sorcerer shouted. "I said to keep it cool!"

" _Fools!_ " the Master cried triumphantly, dancing around the sorcerer's glowing mushroom. "You have already lost! The prophecies have brought us to this glorious moment, and you should be grateful that they have chosen you to fulfill this unholy work! Your destinies will bring the suffering and death of _millions_!"

"Right. Time to go." The sorcerer reached across the glowing panel for a large lever. The Master slapped the sorcerer away, sending him tumbling down the stairs toward the door. Angelus lunged at him next, and the Master threw him over his shoulder. As Angelus crashed to the ground, the boy was already halfway to the podium, reaching for the lever. Apparently, anyone could initiate the spell now that the setup was complete.

The Master slid between the boy and the lever; the boy froze in fear. "It's so adorable," the Master crooned. "I do appreciate courage, you know."

"G-good. That's good," the boy stammered. "I'm still covered in holy water. You can't touch me..."

The Master smiled and leaned closer to him. "I can't touch you without hurting myself," he said softly. "There's a difference."

The Master raised his hand to strike. One swift jab into the eye would take care of this one. As his arm flashed forward, Angelus crashed into him, and only the Master's nail managed to damage the boy, cutting a long gash under the eye. The Master growled in fury at Angelus' insolence as they rolled across the floor. Angelus should be _happy_ that his child was the Anointed One. Even if it did mean his own death.

When they'd finished rolling, Angelus swung himself up on top and dug his fingers into the soft part of the Master's throat until nails pierced skin like fangs. Angelus must have been going for pain, but it was as if he had forgotten that among vampires, the sensation was closer to erotic.

The Master chuckled. "Going to commit patricide, Angelus?" While the stallion had grown in strength, he was still no match for the Masters accumulated power. He wove his arms between Angel's and threw them off with a grunt of effort. When Angelus maintained his balance, the Master added a blow to the gut made him double over and the Master threw Angelus off, sending him crashing into the metal railing.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Angelus groaned as he forced himself up to meet the Master's oncoming attack.

"Angel!" someone called behind the Master.

The Master threw a punch that Angelus managed to dodge by a hairsbreadth.

Angelus looked at the Master. "Rain check?" he asked, and dashed under an incoming blow, still clutching at his stomach with one arm.

The Master whirled around to see Angelus darting into a hallway where the sorcerer stood, with his eyes wide with panic.

"Very well," the Master said, licking blood off of his claw. "Run for now. When I return, you won't want to run anymore." Perhaps all five victims needed to be in the room before the Master killed them anyway. Prophecies could be such touchy things. He turned and made for the double doors.

He could smell Angelus' panic from there, but then he heard the sorcerer whisper, "No, Angel, we locked the door, remember?"

The Master almost laughed. Like a lock could stop him. He reached the door and gave it a mighty push.

It rattled delicately.

Snarling, he attacked the door, pushing and pulling and slamming his full strength against the wood and glass. But it would not budge.

He spun back and spotted the sorcerer, still standing in the doorway with Angelus beside him and the two humans behind them. The sorcerer reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, never taking his eyes off of the Master. "Get ready to run," he whispered. "We're taking the first left behind me. And then an immediate right."

The Master snarled again and in a last attempt, threw his fists against the door, each hit resounding loudly around the room, echoing with deep _booms_ through the labyrinthine halls. The door simply would not open. What magic _was_ this?

He needed that key. It was a magnificent thing, the Master thought, how much faster vampire were than humans.

He turned and ran at the sorcerer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

" _Run!_ "

They dashed around the corner to the left and made an immediate right down a round tunnel, the Doctor pushing himself past Angel to the lead.

Fives steps down the tunnel, the Doctor wrenched open a door to their right and pulled Angel through it into a room that looked like it belong to a teenage girl from the '60s, rapidly followed by Rory and Amy. He slammed the door behind them and leaned against it. "Amy, Rory? Alright?"

"We need to keep moving," Angel said. The door was decorated with a Beatles poster, but Angel pressed his ear to the door anyway to listen for the Master, ignoring the crinkling of the paper and trying not to think about exactly what part of the poster he was plastering his body against.

It was quiet on the other side of the door, but the Master would catch up soon enough. "He'll be able to follow our scent," Angel continued. "Are you _sure_ he can't get through that front door?"

The Doctor waved off the concern and stepped across the earth tone shag carpet to where Amy was dabbing at Rory's bleeding face with a towel that she had found on a shelf. "Angel, Angel, Angel, nuclear explosions can't get through that door."

"How about this door?" Angel pointed at the door. "He's going to burst in, murder you, and take that key. And then I'm going to murder you again for putting my son in danger."

The Doctor looked back at the door in question. "Not explosion proof," he decided. "But! I did manage to reconnect the psycitry."

Angel didn't know what that meant. His fist ran into the Doctor's face before he managed to ask.

The Doctor tumbled away. Angel followed and picked him up by the jacket, pulling his fist back again. Amy and Rory were shouting at him. The Doctor held up his hands in surrender. "Which means that I can tamper with the hallways! We're three miles away!"

Angel's fist hovered as he took that in and pondered how much he believed that they had suddenly traveled a whole _three miles_ inside a spaceship.

"Great," Amy said. "You took us three miles away from the _console room_. Which is where, I'm pretty sure, we want to be if we're going to get out of this mess alive."

So Amy believed him. It was good enough for Angel. He lowered his fist.

The Doctor managed a weak smile at Angel and then gingerly touched his nose. "Ow," he whimpered. "That's it. I'm swearing off vampires."

"Can you do that after we get rid of the Master?" Rory asked. He took the towel from his wife and pressed it to his cheek.

"Right!" The Doctor perked up. "So! The Master should now be happily chasing us through endless empty hallways. We just need to sneak around behind him, pop into the console room, fly to where he's supposed to be and then it's a simple issue of pushing him out the door. Easy!" He grinned around the room and found it full of three very skeptical faces.

"Maybe Amy and I should just stay in here until you do that," Rory suggested with what was supposed to be a light shrug. "Since you clearly won't need us for this 'easy' plan of pushing him out the door."

"Rory," Amy hissed. "We want to help."

"We don't want to die," Rory protested. He waved his bloody towel as evidence. He looked at Angel and added, "Thanks, by the way. Wasn't looking forward to death-by-vampire."

"I don't recommend it, myself," Angel replied.

Rory looked down at his feet, pressing the towel against his cheek again.

"Rory's right, Amy," the Doctor said. "This might be best left as a Pondless adventure."

Amy crossed her arms, scowling at the Doctor. She was about to launch into her argument, when a drop of liquid splashed on her nose. She wiped it away and eyed the liquid on her fingers.

"So what, then?" Angel asked. "You move us back to the console room, I stand guard while you do stuff, then we lure him back?"

"Sounds easy!" the Doctor said in his too-loud voice that Angel thought he used when he was willing everyone to be in enthusiastic agreement with him.

Amy squinted up at the ceiling. Angel agreed: he was not in enthusiastic agreement.

"Things are never easy with the Master," Angel said. "But if that's all we've got…"

"Great!" the Doctor clapped his hands together like Angel has said this was the best plan ever. "Off to the console room."

"And when we finish, you should check the plumbing," Amy added.

"Fine. Plumbing." The Doctor was already walking away. He paused and turned on his heel. "What?"

"Your drainpipe in the ceiling is leaking," Amy pointed up, where the dripping water was turning into a dribble. "I'd question the choice of putting a drain in the ceiling at _all_ , but here? Who are we kidding? It just shouldn't leak."

The Doctor frowned at the water. He stuck his hand under the flow that was now puddling significantly on the floor. Rory moved away. Amy raised an eyebrow. The Doctor licked some off of his hand.

"Can you psy-fix-the-plumbing?" Amy asked.

"I don't think this is the plumbing," the Doctor said slowly.

Something in the Doctor's tone made Angel's stomach knot with suspicious apprehension. He took a few steps forward, sniffing. It smelled like water, but something about it made his skin prickle.

The water splashed from where it hit the Doctor's hands, and a few drops landed on Angel's trousers. Angel reached out a finger and touched the stream.

Fire hit his finger and Angel yelled out in pain as he stumbled backward, causing everyone to jump.

Angel looked at them in shock, realizing that he must have shifted faces for how much sharper they looked. "Holy water," he gasped.

The Doctor swallowed. "Well, that's not good. Angel? Can you get to the door?" The Doctor didn't take his eyes off of the stream of water.

The path was dry back to the door that they had come through. Angel backed toward it. "How much holy water do you have?" he asked, feeling for the knob.

"I had Boniface bless the swimming pool. It was funny at the time..."

Angel cursed and fumbled open the door, pushing it open with one hand without taking his eyes off of the water pouring from the ceiling. A sharp pain hit his hand, and the smell of smoke filled the air. Angel yelled again and stumbled back into the room, staring out into the very well lit hallway. "Sunlight! Doctor, what the hell?"

"Oh...very, very not good at all." The Doctor ran to a door on the opposite side of the room and pulled it open. "Okay," he said, "this way should be safe. For now. Rory? Out you go, into the hallway. Amy? You next."

Both Amy and Rory ran out into the hallway. Angel and the Doctor both eyed the pool of water that was quickly growing into a lake between Angel and the other door.

"Okay..." the Doctor looked around and his eyes focused on a brown plaid couch. "Right." He scrambled over and dragged the couch over into the puddle. "Over you go!"

Angel didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled over the makeshift bridge and leapt the distance that it didn't cover, tucking and rolling out into the hallway where he slid into the far wall. The Doctor ran out, slamming the door behind him. Water slowly leaked from the crack under the door.

Eyeing the walls, the ceiling, and the floor, Angel backed himself up against the far wall. Before he could gather enough to ask a question, Amy pointed a finger at the Doctor's nose. "Your ship is trying to kill us. You said that the TARDIS was safe."

"Yes, I-I did, didn't I?" The Doctor held up his hands placatingly. "It's not trying to kill _us_ , Amy. It's trying to kill Angel. You and Rory are perfectly safe. Except, you know, for the vampires..." He looked over at Angel. "Vampire. Upstairs." He pointed at the ceiling.

"Can't you tell it to stop?" Rory suggested. "You haven't just forgotten to tell it that Angel's a friend or something?"

The Doctor shook his head. "It's broken. I didn't have a lot of time. I fixed the map vector settings and tried to reboot the security system so we could find Amy. We found Amy," he waved at Amy, "and the security system is definitely functioning. It just seems to be unable to differentiate between vampires."

Angel took several steps away from the widening puddle of holy water from under the door. Something in the wall had started to vibrate. "Doctor?"

The Doctor pressed his hand against the wall.

"So basically-" Amy started, leaning in to poke a finger at the Doctor.

The Doctor grabbed her hand and started to run. "We need to move," he said, snatching Angel's leather jacket sleeve and he ran past. He let go of Amy to twist the doorknob of the first door he came to and pushed Angel inside just as the corridor began to brighten uncomfortably again.

They had entered a round room that looked like it belonged in Star Trek (or Star Wars? Angel couldn't keep track), with computer screens built into the walls and control panels jutting out like countertops. The Doctor pressed his hand against one of the closer smooth panels.

"So basically what you're telling us," Amy started again, inserting herself next to the Doctor, "is that either we leave the security system on and let it kill both the vampires on this ship, or we turn it off to save one vampire while the other one finds us and eats us?"

"Eh..." the Doctor said, his eyes wide and staring at the quickly shifting circular symbols on the screen in front of him, "actually, it should be a simple issue of getting Angel back to the console room. Everyone's safe there."

"...Including the evil vampire that's going to kill us," Amy said like the Doctor might be slow.

The Doctor jerked away from the console just as the symbols started to flash across the screen. "Move!" he said, pointing at a door on the opposite end of the room.

Angel didn't need to be told twice: he ran for the door. He could hear Amy and Rory jogging behind him. He tugged open the door, looking into the room beyond. It was the inside of an ocean blue sphere the size of a cathedral, the floor sloping down from the doorway. Angel couldn't spot any other doors. He looked back at the Doctor, who hadn't moved from the control panel.

"Override," the Doctor kept repeating to himself.

"Doctor," Rory said over his shoulder. "There's no way out from the next room."

"No. What? No." The Doctor pointed at the wall to the left of the doorway that Angel was standing in. "Run! I can't keep rebooting the sprinkler system forever."

"That's not a door!" Angel said, waving at the wall.

But Amy let out a cry like a warrior charging into battle and just ran at the wall. Just before she hit it, a hidden door slid aside. She disappeared through it.

Rory pushed Angel after her. "Go on," he said, "you're the one in danger."

Angel leapt through the opening and abruptly found himself falling through the air. He yelled in shock, bright colors whirring past him in twisting tube-like shapes that looked fam-

Angel crashed into the pit of plastic balls and plunged in so deep at least a foot of the balls closed back in over him. Above him, he heard Rory's terrified yell and the Doctor's exhilarated whoop. Angel struggled to get out of their way, but a second later Rory landed to his left and the Doctor landed on his foot.

"Ahhhhg!" Angel burst up to the surface. "This ship," he yelled at the Doctor, "is insane!"

"Malfunctioning," the Doctor said, as he popped up. He tilted his head back, staring longingly back up the tubing. "I need controls… Voice Interface!"

A little girl flickered into view. She had red hair, round cheeks, and wore a red cardigan over a flowered white night dress. Amy and Rory yelled again, jumping away from the image as if it were the Master himself. Angel wondered if he was missing something, but the Doctor appeared at ease with it. Angel was not sure if he should take comfort in that and found that he was exhausted of being unsure all the time. It had been such a nice night before the Doctor crashed in.

"Warning," the little girl said in a lifeless tone. "Hostile lifeforms aboard the vessel. Rebooting sprinkler systems. Damage to the following systems: Navigation, Security, Chameleon Circuit, Gravitational, Psy-"

"Yes! Yes! Turn off the sprinklers!" the Doctor said.

"Sprinkler systems off," the girl reported.

"Doctor," Amy said, pushing forward. "Why is that me?"

The Doctor waved dismissively. "It picks a random image from the archives."

"Tell it to pick a different one!"

"Hey!" Angel cut in, "Ship trying to kill me, evil sadistic vampire trying to kill all of us. Priorities!"

"Yes, priorities," the Doctor agreed. "TARDIS, power down the security system."

"Password required."

The Doctor started to wade through the ball pit toward the climbing wall.

"Password accepted. Error. Security system damaged. Please initiate repairs in the main console room."

"Which is three miles away, right?" Angel said, pushing through the balls after the Doctor. Amy and Rory followed.

"Well, now it's one door up, through the garden, up the ladder and past the kitchen," the Doctor said.

"Okay, tell me this," Angel drew level with the Doctor. "If you can make it so we're three miles away, and now suddenly just," Angel gestured vaguely toward the door, "through the door, past the garden, up the kitchen, whatever: why can't you just make it be through that door?"

"There's a structure," the Doctor said, grabbing the first handhold on the climbing wall and pulling himself out of the ball pit, "that I can't change. There are certain fixed points around the main-"

"Sprinkler systems rebooting."

"Turn off the sprinkler system," the Doctor said, reaching for the next handhold, "the point is, we can make it. We just need to not run into the other Master."

"Okay," Amy said, grabbing her first handhold, "you do know that you just cursed us to run into him, right?"

Angel, who had already reached the second floor door and was pushing it open, said, "I can go ahead. Make sure the way is clear." There was grass on the floor that Angel climbed onto. In the room beyond an eccentric cacophony of organic, flowery smells wafted over him. They'd found the garden, lush and green with ornamental bushes cut into perfect spheres, cherry trees in full bloom, and wooden structures that looked like ancient Japanese shrines, which varied in size from birdhouse to castle.

"Er," Rory said, grabbing at a handhold with tired resignation at having to do this again, "not sure that's a good idea. Sprinkler system's on the fritz and the TARDIS could cut you off from us."

"Good point, Rory. Angel, I need you to stay in the same room as me. I'm turning the lights down for you as we go. TARDIS! Please locate the hostile lifeforms."

Angel looked back into the garden, suddenly suspicious. It looked...green. He sat cautiously in the doorway, leaning against the frame and letting one leg hang over the ball pit below as he waited for the others to catch up.

"Danger. Hostile lifeform in current location," the TARDIS reported.

"He's not-okay, nevermind. The second one?"

"Danger. Hostile lifeform in the main console room."

All four of them sighed loudly. Angel hit the outside of the doorway he was sitting on in frustration. He looked down at the other three climbing toward him, thinking while he watched.

The Master had surprised him. That was a first. Not that he'd actually spent that much time with the guy, but he was a predictable sort of villain. He wasn't following his prey, or trying to get the key to the door, but was instead trying to...what?

 _Oh_ , Angel suddenly realized. To keep control of the console room. The Master might still think the Doctor was a sorcerer, but he was smart enough to realize that the "magic" was centered around that console, and that they would have to return to it eventually. He wouldn't have to hunt his prey when his prey were sure to come back.

The girl in the red cardigan was still standing in the ball pit, staring ahead blankly at the climbing wall. Angel found her deeply unsettling.

The Doctor reached the door and Angel positioned himself to offer his hand.

"Why didn't he leave the console room?" the Doctor said as Angel pulled him up. "Surely he wanted to murder _one_ of us. I mean, look at Rory. Everything tries to kill Rory."

"Thanks," said Rory, shouted up the wall.

Angel narrowed his eyes and he answered the Doctor in a low voice, "He knows we want him to move."

The Doctor heaved a sigh and leaned his head against the doorway. "I thought you said he was an idiot," he said.

"He is," Angel insisted. He leaned out to offer Amy a hand. "But…" he conceded reluctantly, "he hasn't been leader of a devoted vampire cult for centuries for nothing." He hauled Amy up the rest of the way and after making sure she had her balance back, turned to the Doctor. "He knows the console room is the source of a lot of power. He's waiting for us."

Amy crossed her arms. "Yeah, and he's probably pressing every button he can find on that console in the meantime."

The Doctor _psssh-ed_ the thought away. "He can't drive the TARDIS. He'd never even be able to start the engines."

"No, but he could find the button that unlocks the door," Amy pointed out.

A deep, sickening silence fell-punctuated by Rory's grunts of effort climbing up the wall-as they each realized the severity of what that meant. The Master didn't _need_ the key. He didn't _need_ to hunt them. Could he have figured that out?

If he could figure out that the console was the source of all power, he could definitely figure out that it had the power to open the door.

"Oh my god," Angel said, horror twisting his heart.

"Your son," Amy said.

The Doctor stood very, very still.

Angel nodded, temporarily unable to speak.

"So," Amy said decisively, "we'll just have to get there before he figures out which button to press."

"And we'll figure out what to do when we get there," Angel agreed, turning. "Let's go."

"Er, hello?" Rory's sweaty brow appeared at the bottom of the doorframe. "Could I get some help, too?"

Angel grasped Rory under both arms and pulled him up.

"Thanks," Rory panted as they all hurriedly followed the Doctor across the grass toward the nearest winding path through the cherry blossoms as he told the little girl that was the TARDIS (who had flickered up next to them) to turn off the sprinklers again. Angel made out a stone gazebo in the distance to their left.

"Okay," Amy said thoughtfully. "Doctor, cover your ears." She turned to Angel. "If we get some kind of weapon, can you kill the Master?"

"Can I? Sure," Angel said with more confidence than he felt. "Will I? No."

"Thank you," the Doctor grumbled. "Amy! Stop suggesting death as a solution."

"Okay," Amy said, waving the Doctor off, "aside from the fact that you had your ass handed to you last time you came up against him, why not?"

"I did not have my ass handed to me," Angel protested as he ducked around the low hanging branch of a cherry tree, the pink blossoms puffing their petals fragrantly around him when he touched them.

"Uh, yes you did. The Doctor did _all_ the saving in that hallway."

"Angel saved _me_ ," Rory said, pointing at the scratch on his face.

" _Thank_ you," Angel gestured at Rory.

"Yes," Amy agreed, "good job crashing into the evil vampire in order to save Rory. Now you just need to do that with a wooden stake or a silver knife or whatever in your hand that kills you guys."

"No," Angel said, "that's just it. I can't kill him because _Buffy_ needs to kill him in the future. _His_ future. My past. Whatever, it's really important. He goes back to his own time alive."

"Plus," the Doctor added, "exploding timelines. Remember?"

They came to a dark wooden bridge that spanned a wide, babbling creek. Amy's heels _clunked_ on the boards as they crossed.

"Right," Amy said in reluctant concession. "Okay. No killing the evil monster. Doctor, it's your turn."

"My turn?"

"Yep. Tell us your plan to get us out of this mess."

The Doctor straightened suddenly and spun around to look at her, beaming. "I have a _plan?_ " he asked. "Why didn't I tell me?"

Angel thought that these words might have been appropriate dripping with sarcasm; not the genuine curiosity with which the Doctor said them.

"You always have a plan," Amy replied. "Of course, you tend to tell yourself right before we're all going to die..." The Doctor nodded reasonably with her explanation. Amy continued, "But you couldn't change that, could you? I mean, not that I don't appreciate the occasional rush, but I'm worried about Rory's kidneys."

"Adrenals," Rory corrected.

"Ah, yes," the Doctor said a bit sheepishly, veering suddenly to the right along a new, smaller path. "I'll give it a good try, Amy, I really will. But you know, it's not so easy to come up with a plan to lure something away when it won't take bait."

"It'll take bait," Angel said. "Just not us…"

"So, what," Amy said from behind him, "we hang a giant bloody steak from the ceiling and hope it falls into our tiger pit?"

"Angel," the Doctor said suddenly. "Angel, you might want to duck."

"Mm?" Angel glanced up out of thought.

"Like, right now."

"What?"

" _Duck!_ "

Angel ducked, and a wide, razor-sharp axe swung through the air right where his neck was microseconds before. It spun off like a giant throwing star over the bushes, slicing off their tops before splashing into a koi pond, where several fish jumped out of the way in fright. Rory cursed under his breath, eying the bushes and trees around them warily for more hidden axes.

"Sorry!" the Doctor said apologetically as Angel stood up again, protectively rubbing his neck.

"Doctor," Amy stepped up beside him. "You never told us your ship had axes hidden in its gardens."

"Well that's the thing," the Doctor began to explain as he urged them all quickly forward again. "It doesn't. Not really. See, that wasn't so much an axe in the metal blade, wooden handle sense. It's really more of a very specifically aligned compaction of light particles meant to _look_ like an axe."

"So why'd you tell me to duck if it's not real?" Angel asked.

"Oh, it's real. It would have sliced your head clean off," the Doctor said cheerily. "It's just a different kind of real. Think _Star Trek_ instead of _Game of Thrones_."

"Game of what?" Amy asked. "Doctor, are you making up references again so you sound like you know what you're talking about?"

"Thrones, Amy. You know, 'Winter is coming!'..." the Doctor blinked at the bemused faces. "It's sciencey science stuff, okay?" He led them all up the steps of one of the wooden buildings, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"If you say so," Amy agreed, glancing up at the sweeping architecture as they hurried under it. "So do you even _have_ bloody steaks and tiger pits? Wait," she held up a hand, "what am I saying? Given the things we've seen on your ship today, of _course_ you do."

"I don't," the Doctor said a bit haughtily as he pushed on the door at the top of the steps. They hurried through and into the hallway beyond.

"I'm not sure that'll work for vampires anyway, Amy," Rory told her.

"Well no one else is coming up with ideas," Amy said, eyeing Angel particularly. "Especially the guy who should actually know what kind of bait to use for a vampire trap."

Angel didn't acknowledge the jibe.

"What do you guys like, aside from blood and virgins?" Amy pressed on.

They stopped at a wooden ladder that looked like it belonged in a Native American pueblo. It went straight up through a hole in the ceiling, which wasn't far, but it was so dark that not even Angel could see beyond the ceiling. He started up without hesitation.

"Plenty of things," Angel replied. "But the Master thinks Connor is the one in that prophesy. If he can get through that door, he's going to focus on getting him."

They all fell into silence again as they hurriedly climbed the smooth rungs of the ladder, Rory once again falling in last. Angel had made it into the ceiling, but everything was still pitch black. He glanced down at the hole below him.

Looking back up at him was Rory, who slowly raised his hand. "Actually," he said, "I have a bad idea."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"I hate this plan," Angel said as they approached the console room. "Have I mentioned that already?"

"Only about 20 times," Amy said beside him with exasperation.

"22," Rory corrected.

"I think it will go swimmingly," the Doctor said, his arm draped around Angel's shoulder. His arm had been there for an uncomfortably long time. Specifically, ever since the Doctor figured out that the TARDIS was much less likely to try to cut off Angel's head if the Doctor's neck was next to Angel's. "So I distract him, and Angel and...er, Rory, make a run for the great outdoors, as it were."

"Where my son is," Angel said, like that should have ended any thought of the plan.

"You called your friend, they'll be long gone before the Master even thinks of trying to escape," Amy said, trying to hide the note of irritation in her voice.

"You don't know the Master like I do," Angel said. "He's-"

"Shh!" the Doctor held out his free hand, quieting the whole group with the one motion. "We're getting close."

They all silenced, Angel more sullenly than the others. The doorway to the console room loomed in front of them, wide and gaping like a mouth. They slowed, cautiously approaching until they could figure out exactly where the Master was in the room.

The room was quiet except for the deep hum of the console. The Doctor looked over at Angel, questioning.

Angel shook his head. He couldn't hear anything.

"Is he-" Amy started, but the Doctor placed his hand over her mouth. She scowled and jerked her head away.

The Doctor gave Angel's neck a quick squeeze and let go, stepping cautiously on the first step and craning his neck to look above him. When nothing happened, he took another step and then paused, touching his bow tie and smiling confidently. "All right, then."

The Doctor bolted for the console, holding the railings and practically throwing himself up the final set of steps to the glass platform. Not quite skidding to a stop, he crashed into the console and flipped a switch. "Angel? Rory? Run!"

They ran, Angel in the lead, pelting for the front door as fast as they could go. Angel kept a sharp peripheral eye for movement, but saw nothing. He reached the door, Rory a few steps behind. They were nearly there. Already pushing against the wood, he turned the latch and, as the Doctor had promised, it opened at his touch. Now they only needed to get out and close the door again.

Angel shoved Rory out through the door and turned to exit himself when he heard a sharp hiss behind him. Desperate, he tried to shove the door closed again, but the Master hit him with the force of a car. They both tumbled out of the TARDIS, clawing and scrambling for purchase on the other.

The TARDIS door slammed shut. Angel and the Master rolled over again, finding the Master on top, his sharp nails piercing the skin of Angel's neck as he held him down with one hand, preparing a punch with the other.

Rory stood staring with wide eyes, fixed to the spot.

"Go!" Angel rasped through the pain. He raised his arm to block the punch, but only really succeeded in cushioning the blow. "I'll take care of him!"

Rory dashed out of the room.

The Master chuckled. "Awww, I suppose that is all of the loyalty that you can expect from your food."

Angel tried to wrest the Master's hand away from his neck, but even at the weakest point of the arm, he was too strong for Angel.

"Master," Angel gasped out. "We can help you. Take you back."

The Master laughed his high-pitched mirthless laugh. "Back? Yes, I will go back to be greeted by the Order of Aurelius with the Anointed. As it is written, so shall it be."

Gathering all the strength he had, Angel wrenched his whole torso to the side, finally managing to dislodge the Master and gain the upper hand. As they turned, the Master's nails tore painfully out of Angel's skin. Blood trickled down his neck in a steady dripping stream from several puncture wounds.

"Your future,"Angel growled, "is not here. Not my home. Not my family."

"Yessss," the Master crooned pleasantly, as if he were sitting down to tea instead being pinned by Angel to the floor. "Your _family_. That's a twist, isn't it? You must tell me how you managed it. But perhaps you were guided by destiny. I am so pleased the Anointed One will be from such a strong blood line."

Angel adjusted his hands, sliding one under the Master's chin and the other behind his head in the perfect position to rip the head off if he needed to. He shouldn't do it, he knew. It would mess with the timeline. Buffy needed to kill the Master herself. Things might explode. But for Connor, _god_ was it tempting.

"Leave. Him. Alone." Angel growled threateningly.

"Or what, Angelus? You held so much potential once, but now… I'd be more afraid of the infant."

The Master threw Angel over his head with a grunt of effort, and Angel crashed into the already crumbling wall. He miraculously missed any of the broken studs, and by the time his back had stopped spasming enough for him to look around, the Master was long gone.

* * *

The corridors were dark and smelled of must, Angelus, and old fear, like decades of smoke soaked into wood. They smelled more freshly of young human. And they smelled most enticingly of newborn.

The Master followed this scent like a lighted path down a flight of stairs and along another corridor before stopping just outside a polished wooden door that was slightly ajar. The young male trembled inside, his breathing like trumpet heralding dinner. The infant was in there, too, gurgling lightly.

If this was what Christmas was like, the Master suddenly understood why humans celebrated it.

The Master placed a hand on the knob and swung the door inward on silent hinges. The Master slipped inside.

The young male was straightening up from the infant's bassinet, the babe in his arms. He tried to shush the child, who was making noises of confusion from being awoken.

"Aww," the Master said, adding a concern _tsk_ on the end. "You're disturbing his rest…"

The prey whipped around, green eyes wide and staring with horror, and clutched the child closer to its chest.

"Poor thing," the Master continued, now stepping toward them. "Whatever did he do to be disturbed from such a peaceful slumber?"

The Master's prey fumbled to get to the far side of the crib. "Stay back," it said, its voice small and flat with terror.

"Would that I could," the Master replied in his best apologetic tone. "If you give me this sweet child without a fuss, I'll snap your neck before I drink you. Promise."

"You won't," the young male said, his expression still fixed in wide-eyed fear. He turned, like if he didn't look at the Master, the Master wouldn't bother him.

"Won't I?" the Master gasped, stalking still forward. "Well, I guess I'll do it the painful way, then." He stopped in front of the crib, considering it. Then, with an almost casual swipe, threw it aside, relishing in the crash that split his ears and made the human turn in delicious fright. _God_ he loved being a vampire.

The Master raised his hand again, closing the gap between him and the male holding the child. Two clawed fingers curled, poised to jab into the wide, staring eyes. "Goodbye," he said, and stabbed his fingers forward.

His hand shot through empty air. Somehow the human had dodged out of the way, his head moving just enough for the Master's claws to miss him. The prey backed slowly towards the door.

"Oh, so it's faster than it looks?" the Master said, intrigued, pacing after the human.

"I'm not faster than an average human," he said.

The Master snarled and leapt suddenly for the child in his arms. "Then die like one!"

The human fled out the door and down the hall just in time, and the Master slammed into the hallway wall. He dug his sharp nails into it, propelling himself as he scrambled after the retreating human back.

The Master followed the prey around the corner and back up the stairs-typically running along familiar paths, as frightened animals do, and caught up with it in the next corridor. He stretched out a hand to snatch the human, but the prey veered suddenly into a room to the left and the Master lost precious seconds adjusting pursuit. The room turned out to be the same one they had come through. Of course.

The prey dashed for the blue wooden box, slamming into the closed door and grasping for the handle. The Master pulled back his arm, claws ready to disembowel. The human and the child against his shoulder both whimpered in fear. And then- _finally_ -the Master drove his claws deep into the human's back at the base of the spine with such ferocity that his claws stuck in the wood of the box on the other side.

The human went rigidly still and the Master started to smile.

Except...

The Master's arm was cold and dry where warm, sticky blood should have been bathing his skin. He hadn't felt the crack of bones or the squish of organs, just his claws hitting the wood. He pulled his claws free and his arm slid from the human's back, clean like it hadn't been there at all.

The human turned around, the same wide-eyed expression of fear on his face that the Master had been enjoying throughout the whole chase, and the baby kicking gently in his arms. The Master slashed angrily at the human, but his hand passed through skin and clothes as if through air.

"Please don't eat me," said the young male.

The Master snarled, slashing at the human-male-shaped air again. "You don't exist!"

The expression didn't change. The wide, staring eyes: suddenly, the Master wondered if they were wide with fear. Maybe they were fixed in that one expression. The closer he examined the human, the more the look took on an aspect of bored indifference. "I do exist," he said informatively. "You are hitting me."

The Master punched through his head, his knuckles hitting the wooden doors instead of skull. "If you are an illusion, then where is the baby?" the Master demanded.

"I am holding him."

"Do not lie, shade!" the Master yelled furiously.

"I am not a shade," the illusion replied. "I am the voice interface. Navigational, gravitational, and security systems are now online." It flickered and disappeared and the door clicked open, lights pouring out.

The Master hissed, shielding his eyes until he caught the scent of Angelus and the baby. He squinted into the room, spotting Angelus at the bottom of the staircase, the child held protectively against his shoulder.

"Say 'hi' to your great-grandpa, Connor," Angelus said, "'cause this is the only time you'll ever be seeing him."

The Master jumped at Angelus in rage and found himself floating. The door closed behind him. " _What?_ " he growled. Why was he flying? How had Angelus tricked him with a shade? Nothing made _sense_.

"Sorry about that!" the sorcerer shouted. "I had to turn the gravity off on that side of the room."

Angelus frowned. "Or- If Darla was- He might be your grandfather, Connor, now that I think about it."

The Master twisted and slashed at the air, slowly turning upside down. "You will suffer for this! I will rip out your entrails!"

"Awww," a green-skinned demon wearing a blue silk robe over bright red silk clothing said, stepping next to Angelus and leaning an arm on his shoulder, "this reminds me of my family reunions."

On the glass platform, the human male looked over at the human female. "Actually, remember your uncle at our wedding?"

"Picnic's over!" the sorcerer announced, throwing a lever. "Time to go home."

* * *

Angel clutched the brass railing with one hand as the ship rattled through time. Connor was beginning to cry softly in protest and Angel shushed him gently in his ear.

"Inertial dampers are offline, huh?" Lorne said queasily next to him to the room at large.

The voice interface appeared, still looking like Rory holding Connor, and said, "Inertial dampers are disengaged."

"Oy," the Doctor shouted from above. "I was on a tight schedule. Someone's security systems started trying to take out my friends!"

"Inertial dampers were undamaged in the-"

"Voice interface! Tell me how long 'til we get there," the Doctor interrupted. "Up here."

The voice interface flickered and disappeared. It snapped back into view next to the Doctor, who pointed a finger in its face. "Don't take a liking to lying now. This was a special occasion."

"I don't think it could pull it off without me doing the driving," Amy said, leaning a hip against the control panel and nodding at the screen where the hotel schematics were still displayed.

"Estimated arrival imminent."

"I still don't understand why _I_ wasn't the one telling the hologram where to go," Rory said. "It was supposed to be _me_."

"I WILL SMASH YOU!" the Master called from somewhere up near the ceiling.

"Obviously," Amy said, "because I'm better in a crisis."

The Doctor flapped his hands at Amy, shooing her away from the console. "Controls aren't for leaning!" he scolded. Once she had shifted her weight to the other leg, he threw a lever and the machine to shuddered under their feet. A moment later, everything rumbled to a standstill.

"The Anointed One will come to me!" the Master shouted into the silence. "It has been foretold! You cannot escape this!"

"And you've misread the prophecy," Angel shouted back. "Check again." He stepped up beside the Doctor, still trying to quell the potential wailing fit brewing in his son.

"Okay, so we just...shove him out the door now?"

"Yuuuup!" The Doctor pressed a button and the Master began to to sink gently from the ceiling. The Doctor pressed another button, and the TARDIS doors swung open. Outside, Angel could see the stone walls of a church illuminated by the glow of candles. Several vampires growled, and one took a run at the TARDIS door, only to smack into the threshold.

"Master!" he snarled. "Is this a part of the ritual?" The vampire rubbed at his nose, blinking in increasing confusion at the box.

"Don't worry!" the Doctor shouted at the TARDIS door and the vampires outside. He twirled a ball set into the console and the Master flew through the doorway, crashing into the vampire that had only just stopped rubbing his nose.

"It's just a little mix-up!"


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"He has your embarrassingly large forehead!" the Doctor cooed over the baby Connor in his arms. They had returned to Angel's room and found the crib smashed to bits, but as far as the Doctor was concerned, it was a bit of a plus: it meant he got to hold the child longer. "He likes me!"

Angel grinned and shuffled his feet in a gesture that looked quite pleased with himself. The kind that all new fathers have when they're not trying to look too macho to feel it. His feet kicked some of the broken pieces of crib on the floor by accident.

"Did he mean that as a compliment?" Rory whispered to Amy.

"I'm not sure you're allowed to talk about embarrassingly large foreheads, Doctor," Amy said loudly.

"Nobody asked you," the Doctor said. He thought Connor's forehead was just fine. He lifted the baby into the air a few times and he kicked wildly. Connor, the miracle baby. Which, the Doctor supposed, was actually what most babies tended to be. Maybe he was a miraculous miracle baby.

Amy continued, as if instructing the Doctor on various greetings in a foreign language: "Instead you could say, 'Oh! Look at those beautiful blue eyes,' or, 'Such tiny hands,' or..."

The Doctor, feeling that he had the general idea, stopped listening and settled Connor into the crook of his arm again. He had that wonderful baby feel to him: that soft, new, full of energy and potential kind of...hope. "Angel, your child has all of the normal parts at adequate yet adorable sizes."

"Or...that…" Amy finished, flicking her fingers resignedly.

Angel's grin broadened. "He's perfect," he agreed quietly.

Angel was wonderfully succinct. "You should bring him," the Doctor said firmly.

"Bring him where?"

"Everywhere. You should come. Don't you think they should come?" the Doctor asked Amy.

Amy crossed her arms and cocked her hip. "Doctor..." she started, but she was looking at Rory, who was trying very hard to not meet Amy's eyes. Such a smart guy.

"Doctor," Angel chuckled, shaking his head, "the last thing you want on your ship is a newborn."

"Angel, you don't have a clue what I want," the Doctor said. "But newborns need to be exposed to new experiences, like bringing their fathers to wonderful intergalactic space stations. You don't want him to be sheltered."

Angel barked out a laugh again. "I think he's had more experiences in his first few _days_ than some people get in a lifetime. But when he's older, someone _will_ have to take him to Disneyland."

The Doctor brightened. "How much older? Amy, Rory, we're going to Disneyland!"

"I asked to go to Disneyland ages ago and you said that Disney had banned you for the rest of your life."

"Amy," the Doctor pointed a warning finger at her. "That was ages ago. Keep up."

Amy's hip cocked to the other side.

"I was thinking maybe 6," Angel said. "Young enough that it's magical, but old enough to remember it. Did you know you can do character breakfasts? I was thinking Mickey. Classic. But, you know, it could be whoever he likes best. Goofy or Daffy...no...who's the duck?"

"We'll see Elsa. She's my favorite," the Doctor said.

"Who?" Amy asked. "Seriously, Doctor, you've _got_ to stop making references up that don't exist."

"Okay, Amy, Rory and I go see _Frozen_ , and _then_ we go to Disneyland."

Connor started to whimper, so the Doctor transferred him back to Angel. "I am loving today!"

"We almost died," Rory pointed out.

"But we didn't."

"And we kind of beat the Master," Angel added, bouncing Connor gently to quiet him.

The Doctor grinned, pleased that Angel was also able to overlook the near death experience in favor of the better aspects of the day. "See you in six years, then, Angel."

Angel looked up at him, smiling. He had a very nice smile, when he chose to smile. It wasn't fake, like a whole lot of smiles out there. "Sure," Angel agreed. "That sounds like fun."

Sounds like fun. Angel actually meant it, too. Given Angel's tendency to respond to any of the Doctor's ideas with a 'no' or a resigned aire, the lightness of the answer felt like hope that the Doctor hadn't known he'd been missing. Like the start of something. Like something the Doctor had seen once, but not been able to grasp or even touch at the time. He suspected that while that time wasn't now, it was getting very, very close.

"Yes," he said, catching Angel's eye and grinning at him, "we'll have a blast."

 **The End**

 **A/N:** Thanks so much for reading! We hope you enjoyed it; we had a blast writing it. And if you did enjoy it, there's plenty more where that came from...


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